


rainfall.

by sheithshit



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst angst angst angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Galaxy Garrison, Gay Keith (Voltron), Heavy Angst, I suck at writing, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Langst, Latte - Freeform, M/M, Matt Holt needs a hug, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), SHEITH - Freeform, SO, Suicidal Lance, Texan Keith (Voltron), and everything, angst everywhere motherfuckers, but he tries to brush over that, example: lance lives on a farm in arizona, help him, his dad is abusive most likely, i dont know what this story is, iverson is a shitty motherfucker, keith is a kinky motherfucker, klance, lance has tried to kill himself a lot of times, lance is real depressed, lance's family doesn't support him, mATT HOLT IS MORE THAN A COMIC RELIEF, matt and lance bond over insecurities, same universe and ideas as that one klance fic dirty laundry, smut at some point, so much langst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 06:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheithshit/pseuds/sheithshit
Summary: Lance's tears fell faster than the rain back home ever did.





	rainfall.

**Author's Note:**

> suicide warning, as aforementioned in the tags, if anyone bothers to read them :)) 
> 
> my writing isn't the best, i know. im working on it. sorry if my chapters are short! feel free to leave compliments/criticism in the comments, and please leave kudos so i can feel good abt myself lmaoo

The rain.  
It was Lance McClain's favorite weather pattern. His favorite part of the day was when the rain fell onto the fields of his Arizona dairy farm. Lance and his younger siblings would run around in it, dance in it, soak the droplets into their skin, just grinning.  
What had happened to that? Where had it gone? Where had the vast fields, rowdy sheep pens, and the warm aroma of a homemade dinner disappeared to? Why, now, was Lance struggling to breathe, in the coldness of the Galaxy Garrison?  
Why was he a failure?  
Iverson was sure to tell him this every day. "You're a fucking failure, McClain! You hear me? A pathetic excuse for a pilot! Though, the only reason you are one, is because Kogane's deadass close to getting kicked out. You're nothing special. You're a failure."  
There was never a day this went unsaid. His tears, at night, fell faster than the rain ever had, back home, all those miles away. It didn't rain at the Garrison. It made Lance feel very much alone. The rain was almost a friend of his. It comforted him in ways that people couldn't provide, even including his amazing family. The rain could compare to a nice hug, if Lance really thought about it. Ever since he'd joined the Garrison, he hadn't gotten a hug.  
He missed his mother's hugs almost as much as he missed the rain.  
Another freezing class was where Lance was currently located- biotechnology, to be exact. It was one of his worst subjects, for the most part because he didn't put in any effort whatsoever. Most of his work was copied off of his peers, Not like it was right- he sat in the back of the class, where all the below average students were.  
That's all he was.  
Below average.  
Lance couldn't help but wince at this thought. He'd been working so hard to avoid that mindset, but it always seemed to catch up with him. The fact that he'd never be useful, that he was always going to be a failure... It stung, bad. Like a paper cut getting doused with hand sanitizer, then shoved into a pile of salt. It killed him a little bit inside.  
He was absently tapping his pencil, darting his eyes around the room of orange-jacketed teenagers. The Cuban boy recognized one of them, the son of Dr. Samuel Holt; Matthew. He'd never held a real conversation with him, but thought he was a benevolent-seeming person. He and one of the exploration pilots, Takashi Shirogane, were together quite a bit. Lance could only dream for a friendship like that, or at least, a friend.  
The teacher was drawling on about how to reduce the reliance Earth has on petrochemicals. Lance despised this class, he decided. The teacher was a jerk, he had an amazing D+ in this class, and it was so cold. So much for air conditioning, if you're just going to make it like an ice castle. This isn't Frozen, this is the Garrison.  
But, worst of all, he had time to think.  
Thinking was scary, to Lance. He had dark thoughts, darker than the depths of the oceans the rain came and fell from. They ranged from simple thoughts of distaste, to considerably twisted images of his own self, to elaborate plans on how he'd take his own life. Of course, they'd never worked before. He'd most certainly tried.  
\- The first time was when he was only thirteen years old. He was home, but alone. Everyone else had gone out to the arcade. The McClains lived in the somewhat small town of Holbrook, Arizona. There were no arcades there, and his mother, father, and three younger siblings had to venture all the way to Flagstaff- an hour and a half away, without traffic. Lance had used his common excuse; "I don't feel well." In all reality, he felt fine. Physically, definitely not mentally.  
Lance had paced for nearly half an hour after they left. He was extremely Would this fail? How would his parents react when they came home, and their son was bloody, and possibly drowned in a bath? Should he write a note? And, most of all, would his actions drive anyone else to do the same? -  
Lance winced at the thought of that night. But, now that it was on his mind, he couldn't stop thinking about it. The grip on his pencil tightened, and then it snapped. Eyes darted over to him, at the sound of the crack. A pair of which belonged to Matthew. There was also a glare from Keith, which Lance avoided. He always tried to pretend Keith didn't exist- right now, it wasn't working.  
"Shut the fuck up, Lance," hissed the smaller Asian boy, the scowl never leaving his lips. "My God, can you do anything right?"  
'No, no I can't.'  
"Fuck off, Kogane."  
\- Lance was trembling. He managed to weakly look at himself in the mirror- short, sobbing, an absolute failure. Not being able to stand his own reflection, he turned around, facing the tub. He'd filled it up a few minutes earlier. Then, the water had been scorching. Now, it was room temperature. He shivered as he stepped in, though it was pretty warm. Lance only then realized how terrified he actually was. The mere thought of blood made him weak. The thought of him cutting his wrists, deep enough to hit a vein, and crying out, staining the clear water crimson... He let a tear fall down his cheeks.  
More followed. Just like the rain. _  
It was unsuccessful. Even after digging deeper than he'd originally planned, dispensing all the blood he had available, overflowing the bath into the hallway... He'd failed. Of course Lance had failed- All he could do is fail people. Even himself.  
His parents had come home to their son's body, his consciousness fading in and out at a rapid pace. The police took quite a while to get out to their desolate farm, but Lance was wheeled away into an ambulance soon enough.  
Lance had awoken just enough to see his mother's tears, falling faster than the rain ever had. -  
The boy looked up, unaware he'd been crying, right there in the middle of biotech. Oh no. He could hear Keith suppressing laughter, though snickers escaped his pink lips. Lance felt the color drain from his entire being.  
"Cadet McClain, are you alright?" The low voice of Dr. Kain only sounded like a hum. Lance stood, smoothed out his uniform, and practically stormed out of the classroom, knowing damn well the repercussions he'd face for doing so. Not that it mattered. Did anything matter?  
After that suicidal incident, he'd been referred to a therapist, who told him that a nice way of coping was to rate his day, on a one to ten basis. He tried this, now. He was currently at a two. Today had been a horrible day, for some reason, but he didn't know what. Or, rather, how to fix it.  
Lance was shaken from these thoughts when a hand grabbed onto his arm. He instinctively pulled away, and whipped around, to face the owner of the hand.  
Matt Holt.  
"U-Uh, hi! I saw you crying, and then you left, and I... I got worried, I guess? And I just wanted to make sure you were okay?" Matt was stumbling over his words, Lance noticed. He sighed, then replied,  
"I'm fine."  
"Okay, not tryna' be rude or whatever, but you're totally lying."  
"Am not."  
"Are too."  
"Shut up." Lance crossed his arms flush against his chest. He didn't need to be lectured by the professor's son. He didn't want to be lectured by the professor's son.  
The shorter ginger looked up at Lance for a moment, before sticking out his hand once more. "The name's Holt. Matt Holt." He winked.  
"Don't think I didn't catch that reference." One of Lance's favorite things was the James Bond series. Most likely because of family movie nights, where they'd rent a projector and a screen and watch the films in the middle of the fields. He suppressed a smile at the thought.  
"Oh, I know you did," Matt was smiling as he spoke.  
Lance hesitated. "You should be in class, not fucking around out here."  
"Well, we could fuck around somewhere else, if you're catching my drift." The smaller boy winked.  
It took Lance a moment to process this. "Oh. Uh, I-"  
"Kidding! Kidding. But the offer's open if you're interested." Goddamn, Matt was a flirt. It was causing Lance to blush heavily.  
Lance shook his head. "No, thanks." And then he pivoted on his heel, and walked away, leaving Matt disappointed and frowning behind him.  
Just another person to add to the list that he'd disappointed.


End file.
